Undone
by Liam
Summary: A man is tricked into becoming a vampire when he is promised the power to save his people and his faith. Second chapter is up!
1. Intro

This is my first published story on FF.net. Any and all criticism you can give me (good and bad because eventually it will all be taken as good criticism) will be a tremendous help. I've only thrown together some stuff and eventually I hope to turn it into. something. If I can turn it into anything I know I will have gotten somewhere. So be honest. I never really got into VtM that much so if stuff doesn't really fit the storyline of the game then don't get too mad. (P.S. correct me on misuse of the game history.) Here I have written an intro to the story with some history. It's short and unnecessary but knowing about the background always helps.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Our gods were happy. Our gods were peaceful and brought us joy. Our gods were no gods of men. The gods of men came and created a new world. In this new world men lived in homes built like temples of solid stone. Villages were destroyed and cities sprang up and reached for the sky. And these gods of men began to tempt our children. They took them away from us and put them up in the homes of the city and made them new. Our gods became angry at the sight of their lack of devotion. They destroyed the cities and the people within. But the cities still came and the new gods brought to their people more temptations. And slowly we began to die. Our gods and their followers were doomed. The last village, my village, stood quietly just inside the forests. The people of the new gods did not notice us there, nor did they disturb us. The last of our faith took shelter here from the new gods, many striving to look away from the material life. It was there that the slaughter of our faith took place. We would all die. It was a common fact not taken lightly but still known. So we lived until we were to die. That was the general consensus. 


	2. Becoming Undone

In the last village it was known that anyone from the outside was not one of the faithful but one of the children of the new gods. So it came to pass that when he came to us, at the setting of the sun in season of the harvest, the villagers did not take to him kindly. His name, he said, was Jareth. I came forward to greet him. He had wild ideas and stories from distant lands. It was no difficult task to gain my favor and even less so for a man who had traveled the world. Each night Jareth would come to the village and tell stories of the Far East and talk of the new gods and their devious ways. People came to like him in time. He was soon a friend to many and later a friend to all. One night he came to me. He came late, well after the moon had risen.  
  
"You are all doomed, Mathieus," he said bluntly. "The new gods have stuck a heavy blow to the old ways. Soon there will be nothing left." We were the last of our faith. Jareth knew this. We would die for it and we knew it would end with us. And Jareth not only knew this but took advantage of it. "Your Gods are dying, Matheius, your magics are weak and your faith and its handful of followers are fading." I had to admit that Jareth was right. Only fifteen of us were left. Fifteen out of the countless millions that stood only two hundred years before and none of us powerful enough to even conjure spirits for conversation. "We were destined to be kings, Jareth. Our gods showed us the path but we have been turned away from it. How are we to find our way back?" I asked him. "How are you to find your way back, Matheius?" he replied. "You can lead them. You can bring your faith back and rise up. You could be a king, Matheius!" I questioned his every word. Lead my people? How would I rise up and be a king when I am no better than the others? "You will all be kings," Jareth interjected. "But it starts with you." I must think on this," I replied. 'It is a heavy choice. I shall seek council." "Seek no council!" Jareth jumped. "You and you alone must make this choice, for it is you who has been chosen." "Chosen?" I asked. How was I chosen and by whom? "Enough of this, Matheius!" he hissed. "Give me your answer now! Come with me if you want to lead your people to their destiny the way your Gods intended." The power in his voice made me tremble. I had little time to think but my conscience could not let me pass up such a chance as this. My thoughts were centered on what I thought my people would want me to do. If I could save us I should try at the very least. Jareth stared down at me with fire in his eyes. I did not question his level of determination in this subject. I agreed to go with him. We set off immediately going North West. I did not have time to pack clothes or food for the journey and I was unsure of exactly where we were going. We walked for hours. Once or twice I pleaded with him to stop but he gave no sign of tiring. We traveled through wooded areas with no visible path. The trees made shadows of twisted forms and gnarled visages. Each distraught, tormented face made moans of sorrow with every gentle gust of wind. Branches reached out desperately in every direction. Jareth kept moving steadily, over and under every obstacle in our path as though it was never there. When finally we did stop he still showed no signs of fatigue where as I was panting and drenched with sweat. Jareth's eyes were drawn to the east. The night sky was filled with fading stars. The sun would be up soon to light the horizon. A bit of the fiery glow already melted away the glittery blackness into sapphire light. "We rest here," he commanded. I looked around for cover. Dead leaves covered the ground and tree stumps sat around the area next to rocks and jagged drop-off edges. "Where? There is nowhere to rest here," I said. He stared into my eyes. I thought to ask him why but before I could say anything, Jareth whispered gently: "Sleep."  
  
When I awoke it was dusk and the sun was sinking behind the trees to the west. Jareth was nowhere to be seen. I called out to him, eventually with all the force of my breath, but to no avail. He could not hear my call. I was unsure of what to do next. I paced, questioning the very fact that I was here and why Jareth had left me. Perhaps he had gone off to find food or a better resting place. Any place would have been a better place than the pile of leaves and twigs where I had fallen. I could not remember much of what happened but slowly it came back. I started back towards the village. The sun was setting fast and the forest was completely under night's dark cloak. My only thought was getting back to the village, to my wife. Then I felt something. It was cold and solid pressed against my shoulder. I turned around and doubled back. It was Jareth. "You have strayed from the path, Matheius," he said unmoved. "Let us hope it does not happen again." He reached out a hand to help me up. His grip was as cold as ice and his skin was white as snow, gleaming under the soft moonlight. It was a trait of his that had not appeared to me until now. "We should get there by day break. And we shall make you a king." "Jareth?" I began. "What if this isn't such a good idea? What if I can't be the leader of my people? What is it that they can gain from me that makes me so important? Why not Whit or Samantha? They were just as good as or better than I am at leading people. Why not them?" "You ask too many questions, Matheius." He continued his steady stride across the dry, dead leaves, though he did not make a sound. "You were chosen to lead them. Whit and Samantha were not and for good reason. Do not concern yourself so much in the matter, not yet. Soon you will understand everything," he paused, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "And your Gods will be alive again." We continued along through the forest. I could tell that each step brought Jareth closer to his destination. Where is he taking me? The trees were less disturbing here. Songs came from off in the distance. A harp was playing with the voices. With every step we took, no matter how quiet, it seemed the song grew more distant. I asked Jareth if he heard it too. He did not respond. He was deathly silent. I began to pester him for he was obviously annoyed by my questions. I asked him how little of anything he could hear. The song, still moving off, was still as prominent as the moon against the sky. "Pay no attention to it. There are things amongst these trees that could steal your very soul if you simply walk right into them." He was quick to dismiss all of the few questions that I asked thereafter. We walked until the sound of merry singing was behind us and the twinkling of little stars dotted our way into the clearing. In the clearing, I knew then we had found our destination. Here in the middle of the forest there stood temple ruins. I had grown up wandering this forest and never had I seen suck a thing as this. It seemed to stretch back through time. The columns were lined with pictures and symbols. I could not tell what it was but even within the outer walls of this long dead temple there were stories. Jareth cocked his head to the left and darted into the temple. I looked out at the first rays of the sun as they began to cover the ground. From here the sun was more radiant than it had ever been. The trees seemed to reach out to it and the veil of mist on the grass floated up to it. "Hurry, Matheius!" Jareth yelped. Tearing my eyes from the crumbled statues and long dead stories, I ran up the narrow stair to Jareth just inside the temple doors. He guided me down a long hall. Torches dimly light the way and gave a medium for the dance of strange shadows on the walls. As they moved so fluidly across the stories of old they seemed to dance across time itself. Some were merry figures, prancing about with joy across the legends. Others writhed in agony in the fiery light. Sounds of chanting came from further within the temple. The sweet, serene voices that gave praise rose and fell. And unlike the enchanted music of the forest, they did not back away as we approached. Inside the main chamber a chorus sang their chanting prayers in the darkness. They danced together around the center of the room where a circle had been painted on the floor. It was a symbol I had seen on the walls and pillars outside, a square inside a circle with a triangle in the upper right corner. The dancers knelt to the ground and circled up reaching out their long arms to the sky it seemed. They looked as though they might reach through the ceiling if they tried to. Each one carried in their hands an empty brown bowl. I could feel the desire they felt however faintly. I knew they waited for something. With their outstretched arms and bowls in their hands, as though they begged for something, they called out. I looked up to the ceiling and fell back in horror. Thirteen men and women were bound by chains to the ceiling in a circle, each one with their eyes and mouths open. They seemed only shells after I looked again. They did not appear to have ever been alive until it began to rain. Founts poured out of them, through their eyes, their mouths, and through holes in their chests. The dancers went into a chanting frenzy, dancing about catching the fluid that poured down on them in their brown bowls now overflowing. I stepped forward in amazement. The air was thick and smelled faintly of copper. It was then I felt the rain. But it was not water. It was blood, thick and red coming down on me. I screamed in terror. I turned to run. I could not watch this. Why had Jareth brought me here? He reached out and grabbed my arm. Blood dripped down his cheeks from the wells that appeared in his eyes. The dancers approached us holding out their bowls of blood. They moved gently with a sad sense of hope in their eyes. Jareth called out. "I have brought him to you now! My good Sire, he is here!" Then from out of every dark corner there came a voice. "Bring him into the circle so that I may see him." The voice was firm but giving. I fell to it unwillingly. I could not struggle or break free. Jareth dragged me to the circle surrounded by the chanting dancers. "You have done well, Jareth," the voice spoke. "Yes, I can see what he was. He was a great sorcerer. But what of him now? What of him now? Yes, he retains his magics, but they are weak," the voice paused. "Jareth, we shall give him power, his magics will be stronger than before." Jareth nodded. "Yes, my good Sire. I shall do as you command. Have the elders sent forth their offerings?" he asked. "Yes, my child," the walls echoed this voice. Jareth did not speak again and neither did the voice. There was nothing. My eyes clenched shut. I expected pain and unbearable agony. But it was so much more. It was everything and nothing. Eternity flashed before my eyes. It was the undoing of my existence and a creation of unnatural design. It felt like the Gods had touched me. Jareth's cold lips pressed against my skin. Now everything made sense. He had chosen me. I could lead my people. I could destroy the enemy and reclaim those lost to us. It was all so simple now. The great feeling of overwhelming ecstasy faded quickly. My mouth filled with warm fluid. It was thick and metallic. I drank it down more than willingly and I fought for more. My legs were too weak to stand right away. Then I gathered my strength, stood and faced the dancers. I grabbed at the bowls furiously and I drank each one dry. It wasn't enough. All there was in my mind was the hunger. Denying my urge made it stronger, more so than when I gave in to it. I turned to the dancers. Starting with the closest one I began to tear and slash at her chest with my bare hands. Her flesh was soft under my murderous hands. Her wounds flowed fourth and I drank. I drank almost to the point where she was dry. Jareth's cold hand reached out and pulled me back. I pushed him back and he let go. I turned to the next dancer. I tore away at his flesh as easily as I would have torn the clothes off of his back. Halfway through my raging attack, Jareth picked me up. I writhed in agony. I screamed and kicked. I wanted more. Jareth was stronger than I by far and there was no way out of his grasp. He carried me, screaming and desperate to be free, down a long hall. This hall was exactly like the first. Lengthy tales of old written painted on solid stone covered the walls. Torches burned and the shadows danced and died. But it was different now. The shadows all had voices. Each one sang the stories from the walls. They sang the tales of war and destruction, of deception and jealousy. Their focus was a mad man who became no thing of man. Their songs became twisted and garbled but still notably of a sad nature. The fires burned my eyes while the flames mesmerized me for they too danced. Even against the sound of Jareth's heavy footfalls I could hear the low crackle of burning wood. I could smell the smoke and feel the heat from so far away. "Let me go!" I screamed. "Put me down now!" Jareth paid no attention. He continued walking down the hall. There was no point in struggling. He did not allow me a chance of escape. At the end of the long hall Jareth stopped. I noticed that the story did not stop at the end where Jareth was standing, holding me over his shoulder. I wondered if they stopped at the other end. Then I saw. The other end of the hallway was completely shrouded in blackness yet I could see. The painted story of the Damned One encircled the entire temple, not just this hall. Jareth opened the door and threw me against the wall. I fell back hard against the stone. He walked in and closed the door tightly behind him. Next to him a torch burst into flames without any apparent source of ignition. I lie there on the floor. My lungs were heaving and filling with blood. My heart began to lose its rhythmic pulsation and fade. I was dying. Jareth stood there glaring down at me. His eyes were burning into me like fire. The blood in my lungs began to flow upwards and forced itself out of my airway. I had barely enough strength to hold myself up but I managed to stay up on all fours vomiting blood on the floor. Jareth tucked a bowl beneath the flow and then stepped back against the wall. I continued to vomit even after the bowl was filled. My strength left me after a time and I fell on my back. There was nothing left. My body lay motionless on the ground; my open eyes stared at the creature that had done this to me. He showed no remorse. Jareth's eyes were locked on the ceiling with awe. He was frozen as if by magic. I felt a breeze graze the blood on my face. Jareth vanished. The walls began to glow with gold. Then they too vanished. I was surrounded by desert wastes. White sands and sandstone cliffs lined the horizon. I stood up not thinking of what had just occurred. I was no longer aware of the pain that I had felt or that I was just lying without life on a cold stone floor. I looked around at my surroundings. There was nothing more but desert sand and cliffs. The sun beat down with a dull brightness. From within the circle of golden fire there emerged a shadowed figure unlike I had ever seen. It glided downward, borne on wings of green and silver. He appeared to me as though he were a man, but a man with wings. He landed softly on the ground. His eyes were piercing yet sorrowful. "You have never known me, Matheius," he said gently. His voice rang with otherworldly sweetness. "You have never known us but in time you will. We are the ones who have given your father this curse that has been passed down to you. I come unto you now, child, to give you hope. I am the path that will lead you to mercy. If you seek to find us and from us forgiveness you shall be rewarded. Seek it not and you are damned." With that his wings fluttered and he flew off into the daylight. And this same source of light began to burn my very soul. I writhed in pain. Falling to the ground I found myself back within the temple walls. I sprang up from the floor. Jareth held in his hands the bowl which had caught the blood my body had rejected. He motioned for me to take it. This was all just a dream. Everything that has happened since I came to the temple has been a dream. "Did you not see it?" I asked. "You must have. It was like nothing I have ever seen." "What was it that you saw, Matheius?" "The desert wastes and a man lifted down from the sky on wings of green and silver." Jareth shot me a confused look. I took the bowl and began to drink as easily as I would have water. After the last of it was gone I looked down at the bowl to see what it was that I had drunk. It was blood, my blood. The bowl shattered when it hit the floor. I could not contain my astonishment. I screamed out in terror. "What is going on? What has happened to me, Jareth? Why do I sit drinking this blood?" I stood and faced him. His eyes were still burning into me. He denied me a response. I brought my hand to strike him. "Tell me, Jareth! Why have you given this to me?" I shrieked. He caught my hand effortlessly. "You are reborn," he said sternly. "You are my son, and I am the son of the Kindred Tremere Elder, Cerus. You are a vampire, Matheius." I could not stop asking myself what he was talking about. I did not know of such creatures. None of the stories of the elder gods had ever mentioned such creatures that go about drinking blood. There were no tales of those who would desecrate the body of another, whether for the sheer enjoyment of it or for what ever reason. "What do you mean a vampire?" I yelled. "What is the nature of this? What is happening, Jareth? Am I dead? And if I am why is it that I can still be here before you speaking?" Jareth signaled me to follow him. "I will not go anywhere until I am answered." My fury was all that kept me from fleeing. "Am I dead?" "In a manner of speaking, yes, you are dead. More specifically you are standing on the edge of life and death. Your existence teeters on the balance. On one hand you are alive. You can walk about, speak, anything that a living mortal could do," he paused, "with some exceptions. Because you are, at the same time, not a living being you are not required to eat food as you did while you were living, nor do have need to breath. The only 'food' you need worry about is that which you will get from those of whom you choose to drink. It is the vitae, the blood, that which sustains us all, the living and the dead. It comes from those of whom you will feed." I had had my fill of for the night. The thought of it and the intensity of the situation turned my rage into fear. I ran. Pushing past Jareth I flew through the door and down the hall. The heavy beating of drums and the shadows' dance only seemed to push me out further. Laughing and cheering, shadows seemed to urge me to stay but the ferocity in their untimely joy only helped to send me faster. In the dome where I had been before, where I had killed for the first time, where I was reborn, there was no one save those poor souls still bound to the ceiling. I could not stop. I kept running. There was no time to look behind me, no time to see if Jareth had bothered to come after me. I went back down the hall leading to the entrance. Almost no time, it seemed, had passed since we had come to this place. Or too much time had passed. The sun was coming up over the horizon and the sky was afire with its morning light. This would have been my salvation. I leapt at the door. The sooner I get out the safer I will be. But I was wrong. There was only pain. This searing pain burned from my finger tips up to my elbow. That was as far as I could get before Jareth grabbed me by the hood of my cloak and pulled me back. Here I was terrified. Here I was in pain and stricken with grief, so much so that I could not bring myself to shriek or to call out. My arm had turned to ashes and fell in pieces to the ground, leaving only a bloody stump. "We can not go out in the sun either," he remarked callously. "You still have much to learn, Matheius. Come, I will heal your wound and you will rest. Tonight we shall go to make you whole again." I went with Jareth all the while asking myself where my mind had gone. He took me back to the room where I had the vision. There he set me down on the broken bed and I fell asleep. When I awoke, I was alone. My thoughts were fractured. I was dead but alive. In that moment I knew that I would never again see those closest to me. Beside the bed there were four bowls, the same as those I had drank from before. They were empty. I heard footsteps from down the hall. I sat up in the bed as the door swung open. Jareth stood there. In his hands he held black and white clothes. He tossed them on the bed next to me and told me to get dressed. Still in a mindless daze, I did as he said. The shirt was made of black silk with red stripes down the shoulders and gold buttons. The pants were made of silk as well with red running down the sides. The coat was heavy. I had never felt the material before. It was soft and warm yet sturdy. I picked up the shirt and made a brief attempt at putting in on. My current disabilities made it next to impossible. Jareth stepped closer and held the shirt up so that I was able to slip both arms through the holes. He came around in front of me and buttoned up my shirt. "This isn't necessary, Jareth." It was all too obvious that I was lying. My confusion and shame directed my words more so than did the overzealous pride that I had figured I would now harbor. He looked at me and smiled. I reached over and snatched the pants off of the bed before he could get to them and further shame me. "I can do this." I steadily put one leg into the pants and the same with the other. To both Jareth's and my own surprise I managed not to fall over. He waited until I had them up to my waist and grabbed me by the clasps of my pants. "I'm not about to let you embarrass yourself further," he chuckled. I looked at him crossly. The coat was as simple as the shirt and the processes that lay within were repeated. 


	3. Broken State of Mind

-2-  
  
We left the temple as the last bits of sunlight tucked behind the horizon. The forest was more alive now than when we had first come to the temple. The music still played merrily in the distance and still moved off whenever we approached. The ground was wet and the leaves around the clearing sparkled lightly in darkness. The stars were pale and dim. Once again we traveled an unmarked trail through to the northern edge. Jareth made no noise or mention of where we were heading until we reached the outer rim of the forest. The leaves here sparkled from the drops left over from the last rain. It was then that I noticed that I had missed the first rain of the season. The thought was distressing. I had not, since I was very young missed the first rain of the season. Jareth noticed my sorry state and hissed back at me.  
  
"Don't dawdle. We have only just reached the outskirts of the woodland. We still have a ways to go." He pushed on and I followed. I followed until we reached the lands I had abhorred since the new gods had created them.  
  
The outskirts of the city was a place where the poverty stricken lived, if it could be called living. The streets were broken and the houses lay in waste. Children ran around the darkness chattering and playing. The others sat around small fires and spoke of the weather and dreamt about life inside the city. I noticed a few in particular. They were once my brothers and believers in the Old Ways. This is what their new path has brought them? They have forsaken our ways for this? I was overwhelmed. Jareth walked past them without a second glance. He did not know these people and I myself did not now most of them. What pity could I have for them, now? I followed Jareth without any more thought on the subject. It sickened me to see them in such a wretched state.  
  
We wandered the city streets for nearly half an hour before we came to a small jeweler's shop at the end of an alley. The old sign swayed and creaked in the wind. The door and windows were boarded shut. From within there emanated a faint smell of lavender and sage. There is someone in there. Jareth didn't just bring me to an empty alley. The excuses and circumstances ran through my mind. Jareth looked up at the roof edges. I didn't ask why or even wonder. He stepped forward and knocked, not on the door or windows. He set his fist to the solid brick that surrounded us. Candle light flickered from behind one of the broken windows. I peered through the cracked opening to see a fisted hand spring up. It was withered and jagged. The fist began to open revealing to me an eye. I jumped back when I noticed it. Then, like a curious child, I crept closer. The eye gleamed in the soft candle light. I could feel it moving over me, looking me over and sizing me up. The hand turn and the eye looked at Jareth.  
  
"Ah, Jareth," a voice cracked. "How are you? Do come in." The wall where Jareth had knocked slid open. The hand disappeared under the window and we walked in through the wall into darkness. The mysterious candle flash glided off to the other side of the room as though it floated on its own and rested on a table. The voice came again and this time the words were spoken from inches away. "You have brought a friend? This is unexpected." The shadows around me faded. No other lights illuminated the room save for the candle on the table yet the shadows melted away as if driven by this single candle's light. Before me there stood a peculiar image. It was not as frightening as it was curious. It was a twisted form of a man with thin lips and glossy black eyes. It grinned bearing its razor edged teeth and waved, displaying its eye once more. "Greetings," it hissed. "You are young. very young. Yes, not more than two days old. What is your name?" My words did not come easy.  
  
"I am Matheius," I managed to mutter. Jareth moved between me and the dead thing.  
  
"I have a favor to ask," he said. "We encountered a bit of trouble not more than twenty hours ago. He has lost an arm I'm afraid." The dead thing chuckled and grinned wickedly. It mumbled happily and seemed to dance over to its shelves at the other end of the room. Jareth looked at me over his shoulder. "If anyone can get you an arm it'll be this one. The Tscimisze love this kind of thing." His words were just a blur in everything that was taking place. This night, the night before, it was all too bizarre. Even the oddly shaped dead thing dancing about the room was no more confusing than everything else. Everything was all too confusing in itself for me to be concerned. The disfigured man reached in and out of cupboards and closets, gleefully mumbling and cackling all the while.  
  
"No, no, that won't do. Too long! Too short! No, no, that won't do at all," he chanted. I looked closer at all of these cupboards to see what it was he was doing. Within each one there hung limbs of every size. The sight of these detached parts startled me momentarily. "Yes! Yes, I have found one," the dead thing screamed. "This one is perfect for you. Come sit!" He motioned me over to a chair. Jareth pushed me towards him and I sat. "Let me see your arm." I pulled back my sleeve and exposed my stump. "This shouldn't hurt too much," he crowed. He raised his finger and I watched as it grew in length and sharper at the end. "I lied." His smile grew wide and before I could flinch he brought his finger down and sliced through my skin. The stump bled lightly. I screamed. He cut open the end of the arm he held in his hand. "Hold still!" he yelled. The dead thing brought the arm to bloody end of my arm. I felt my bone stretch and the tendons grow. The bones came together with a snap and the skin around the arm sealed itself. "Now, was that so hard?"  
  
"You're done then?" Jareth asked. The dead thing nodded and reached out to him. "I think you've had enough fun with him. Surely you need no payment from me." He slapped away the decrepit hand that trembled toward him.  
  
"That was not part of our deal," it hissed. "You will give me my payment!" Its eyes gleamed and the thing began to sway slightly creeping closer to Jareth. This time he did not turn the thing away. Instead he sighed and took off his cape and his shirt. He turned his back to the dead thing revealing a line of bone protrusions curved downward along his spine. Jareth's elbows had similar yet smaller protrusions, almost like spikes. The dead thing clapped its hands together with excitement. "Yes, yes, what to do." it thought aloud. The moment of its revelation was signaled by a devious cackle. I saw its finger grow again and come to a point. Moving it down the side of Jareth's back, it contemplated what to do next. "Where shall it be? Yes. here." It began to scratch at his back, cutting into it gently. A symbol formed from the bloody welts that the dead thing had made. It wiped away the blood and spat on the wounds. The substance was black and thick. It covered the spot for a moment until the dead thing wiped it away leaving only the outline of the scratches that he had made. It was a character of some kind perhaps.  
  
I lost interest in what was happening on the otherside of the room and looked down at the new appendage that I had just received. I could not feel or move it. It lay there limp. I shook it softy thinking I might feel something then. There was nothing. What's the point? It no longer mattered really. I would wake up eventually.  
  
"Do not abuse what I have given you just yet, child," it hissed at me. "You must wait for it to be complete." I looked back over at Jareth and the dead thing. Jareth was back in his clothes and the dead thing squirmed towards me. I asked if I would ever be able to use it. It just laughed at me. "Take him home, Jareth," it said. "Get something to drink before you leave the city. I hear there are some very good items down by the city gates." It smiled and bade us farewell as we walked out of the broken shop.  
  
Jareth slipped away to the southern gates and I kept my pace with him as best I could. I remembered the way so it was no great task to find it after I lost him. Jareth was fast, faster than anything I had seen in my life. When I reached the gate, he stood there leaning up against the wall waiting for me. If this is what he had made me, then maybe there was a chance for my people. Jareth was powerful, physically and mentally. Soon I would see my people again and I would save them. Everything would be just as he had promised.  
  
"I must return to my village, Jareth," I said. "My wife is surely worried that I have been gone for so long." Jareth looked disappointed. He kicked himself away from the wall and walked out beyond the gates throwing up his hand. I followed him once more. We made our way down through the forest again and back to the temple.  
  
The temple was some how older now. Cracks and fissures in the stones sprung out vividly where I had not noticed them before. What was left of the carvings and paintings on the walls were more faded and weary. Nothing else had changed. Even inside, the dancing shadows still performed for me and the cool mists still rose up in patches. I noticed something out of place in the main chamber. Near the bottom of the stairs there lay a puddle of blood. Close to that rested a circle of ashes. Jareth looked around the main chamber. Voices rose up from the mists, it seemed. All at once they called my name at first in whispers. Then the voices overlapped becoming a sea of cries. I looked about. Jareth only stood looking on. At the bottom of the stairs, from the pool of blood and circle of ash rose two bodies. They were decimated corpses with hollow eyes and gaping holes in their chests. Though their lips did not move and they made no sound, I felt the voices flow from them.  
  
"Jareth," I whispered, backing up towards him. "Jareth, do you see them?" I turned around to see if he was looking. He was not there. He had vanished. The bodies struggled to reach me but did not move from where they stood. I was drawn to them. I moved closer. Every step seemed out of my control. Their horrifying voices shattered my will and beckoned to me.  
  
"Mathieus." they repeated. "Mathieus."  
  
"Mathieus!" Jareth shouted. I was standing at the bottom of there stairs looking down at where I had seen them. There was no blood, no ash. At the center of the room Jareth stood disappointed. I glanced back at the floor and then again at him. "Are you coming or not?" he demanded. I kept an eye on the floor as I nodded my head and followed him out of the main chamber.  
  
As Jareth led me down the hall I could not pay any attention to the words he said. My mind was fixed on the main chamber and the vision of the bodies. The two corpses which had called my name, I realized, where the dancers. They were my first victims. 


End file.
